


Using all resources to the best of our ability

by wyomingnot



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyomingnot/pseuds/wyomingnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond discovers an interesting skill set of Q's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Using all resources to the best of our ability

M walked into Q's office and closed the door. He approached the desk where Q was furiously typing and sat down in the visitor's chair. 

“I've been told you have a rather interesting skill set you left off your CV,” M said, tapping his index finger on the arm of the chair. 

Q didn't look up or stop typing. “I try to keep my CV relevant to the position, sir. I have more than a few skill sets not applicable to this posting that I chose to leave off.”

“Q.”

Q held up a single finger for a moment. His typing reached a crescendo, and with a flourish Q hit the enter key, pushed the monitor to the side and looked up. “Yes?” 

“You're a magic user. Apparently quite a gifted one at that.”

“And that has nothing to do with my work here. Sir.”

“Nothing? You don't utilize those talents here?”

Q gave a wry grin. “You don't know any users, do you, sir?” M shook his head. Q continued, “I can't wave a magic wand to hack a terrorist cell. I can't look into a crystal ball to find out where 007 has disappeared to. It doesn't work that way. Though that would be brilliant, wouldn't it?”

“Indeed.”

Q watched M expectantly. There had to be a reason for this visit, other than random curiosity. While this M did spend more time amongst the rabble than his predecessor, he wasn't prone to wandering; his visits had purpose.

“I'm told you worked with the Met before you came to MI6.”

“I helped out on a few cases, yes. That's all. Regular police work really wasn't my cuppa.”

“What about consultancy?”

“Are you... “ Q tried to tamp down on the panic creeping up. “Is there a problem with my performance, sir?”

“No.” M shook his head.

“Then what is all this talk of magic and working with the police then?”

“I received a request for your services on an operation. Tonight. I have the details here.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket's inner pocket and handed it over. “I'm told that will self-destruct shortly after opening.”

Q squinted at the paper, then held it up to his nose and sniffed. “That it will.” He opened it up, flipping through the few papers inside, skimming their contents. He read the pertinent items again, committing them to memory. “I'll do it.”

“Good.” M nodded once and stood up. “Do you have a preference for a back-up agent?”

“I'll be fine by myself.”

“This is serious enough for the Met to reach out to MI6. Back-up is only reasonable.”

“It's my one condition. Magic is very private for me. I'm sorry, sir, but it's solo or no-go.”

“I don't like this,” M said, shaking his head.

“Neither do I.”

“Fine.” M stood quietly and waited while Q put the contents back in the envelope and tossed it into a bin where it promptly caught fire. 

“You might want to override the fire alarm soon.” He inclined his head toward the bin.

“Give it a minute.” As quickly as the flames had started, they stopped, leaving nothing in the bin. Q tipped it for M to see.

“Did you do that?”

“No. I told you. I don't do magic at work.”

~~~***~~~

“Have a seat,” M directed. Bond raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. Sitting was for after-action debrief, not before. There were no dossiers on the desk, either. He fidgeted a moment in the chair like a guilty schoolboy summoned before the headmaster. He couldn't think of any reason he'd be called on the carpet; he'd actually been reasonably well-behaved lately. He made himself still and waited patiently for M to get on with it.

M walked around his desk, leaned his hip against the edge in front of Bond and crossed his arms. “Are you familiar with MLE?”

“Magical Law Enforcement, sir?”

M raised his eyebrows. “Got it in one. It's not well known. Scoffed at in some circles. But it's there. How much do you know about it?'

“Not much. Usually handled at the local police level. MI6 has no MLE division. Neither does the CIA. Felix Leiter has mentioned one in the FBI though. As you say, not well known.” Bond shrugged.

“The Met has an MLE division with a staff of two. They've asked for some unofficial help.”

“Why not hit up MI5?”

“Apparently they don't have anyone qualified.”

“And we do?”

“Yes. I need you to provide backup. While our man is qualified and capable, he's not actually a field agent. I just need you to cover his six. Without his knowledge.” He paused and correctly read the expression on Bond's face. “You have questions.”

“Several. I'll start with... Why are you sending someone's who's not a field agent into the field? On an off-the-books inter-agency operation, no less. With a double-oh as stealth backup?”

M straightened and walked back around the desk to sit in his chair. “I don't appreciate my judgement being questioned, 007. However, as those are indeed valid concerns, I'll allow it.

“There are no field agents qualified for this. The covert backup is because he flat refused backup at all. But he is too valuable a resource to send out unaccompanied, hence sending a double-oh.”

“And just who is this confident valuable resource?”

“Q.”

~~~***~~~

Q grumbled under his breath. He'd quit working with the police for a damn good reason, but he couldn't very well say no now. People were going missing from a club and turning up later with obvious signs of thaumaturgical homicide. After the op, he would let the powers that be know that MI6 was his life now and they'd best not go over his head again.

He'd just tossed his bag onto the desk when he was startled by a knock on his open office door. R gave a timid wave. 

“Must have been some meeting,” R said, watching as Q packed up his laptop.

“You don't know the half of it,” Q replied, zipping his bag shut. “I'm being loaned out to the Met. Apparently they need *me* to show them how to turn it off and turn it back on again.” He let out a sigh, annoyed that he had to lie to his people, but M had been rather emphatic about need-to-know.

“How long are they keeping you?”

“Hopefully it'll be taken care of tonight and I'll be back tomorrow. But just in case...”

R held up a hand to stop him before he got started. “I know the drill. I've got it. No worries.”

~~~***~~~

Sitting in his car near the club Q had just entered, Bond was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Q was a magician. Wizard? Mage? Whatever label he used. M hadn't said and Bond hadn't asked.

He wasn't fond of undercover surveillance, but he didn't mind too much. What he did mind was going in without a proper briefing. M had no intel as it had apparently gone all Mission Impossible after Q read it. So, instead of being able to check out the surroundings ahead of time at his leisure, he had to fly blind and just follow. Then again, that really wasn't all that different from the way some assignments began. Bond sighed and went into the bar a few minutes after Q.

It was definitely not his kind of establishment, and he was very glad he'd changed out of his suit before heading out. But it the tacky surroundings weren't the only thing making him uncomfortable. It felt wrong. He had no affinity for magic, but something was definitely hanging over the place.

He was able to find a dark corner seat while Q was occupied getting a drink. He watched as Q took a seat front and center, not hiding at all.

~~~***~~~~

Q was disappointed once he got the feel of the place. Too small to be even slightly challenging. He spotted his targets almost as soon as he came through the front door. Three ordinary-looking guys to anyone else, but to Q they may as well have been holding up signs reading, “evil magic user”. They stood between a tall table and the wall near the dance floor. Q seated himself out in the open, no need to be secretive; he didn't need to hide to not be seen. They weren't expecting any resistance and wouldn't be looking for it.

Sure enough, one of them approached him in the loo. Tacky. And creepy to get in a stranger's face to have him pick a card. But Q was looking forward to seeing how the four of hearts would come into play.

He'd made it back to his seat before he realized that things had already begun. Creepy was back with the others presiding over the dance floor where a tall black man was enthusiastically dancing alone. Q found his eyes drawn to the sight. He took a breath and stopped himself from being pulled in further. He looked around and saw everyone in the club was focused on the stage. Enthralled. 

Music-based magic. No wonder he got the call. He listened and watched carefully, formulating his plan of attack. Creepy held up the ace of hearts for the first dancer, who stopped dancing with a blank expression and walked out. Tonight's first victim. A random card was drawn from a deck held by one of the other targets, held up to the crowd, and another person took the stage. She danced for a bit only to be stopped by the ace of spades. 

The next person up was the girl who had sat almost next to him after he arrived. She had been completely absorbed in her mobile phone until the dancing started, and then she couldn't look away. Now she was shedding her jacket and getting up to dance. Ace of hearts sent her away. 

And then it was the four of hearts being held up. Q felt the tug coming from outside himself. He pulled the card out of his pocket and set it on the table. He knew what he had to do.

Showtime.

~~~***~~~

Bond's not sure what he expected, but this odd dance show was not it. The compulsion to watch that came from outside his head was damned disconcerting and hard as hell to fight. But he was on a mission, unofficial as it was. He had to keep an eye on Q. He had to keep telling himself that or he was going to fall in like everyone else. He'd looked around a few times when dragging his eyes off the dance floor. Damned spooky.

The battle not to watch was lost when Q stepped forward. He stood in the middle of the dance floor for a moment, looking thoughtful. The stillness was gone in a flash as he started moving, unrestrained in a way that made the previous dancers look tame. Bond had never seen Q move in any way other than precise and controlled; he couldn't reconcile the uptight snarky young professional he knew with this. He was without words. 

While he had been drawn to watching the show before, he was able to look away. He no longer had a choice in the matter. Q's rhythmically flailing limbs and endless motion, all seemingly random and uncontrolled had Bond mesmerized. The seconds ticked past, and Bond spared half a thought to wondering when Q was going to make a move and what that move might be.

The ace of spades came up when Q slowed his motions. Instead of stopping, Q kept dancing, but his dance had shifted. It was still wild and uninhibited, but now the movements felt deliberate and controlled. This wasn't Q dancing, this was Q working. 

A long moment passed before the card was set back down and the target hung his head. Q kept dancing. The people who had danced and left returned in reverse, as though the performance was being rewound. Q kept dancing. And then he stopped. As did the music. 

Bond felt as though he'd been slapped awake. He looked around, but everyone was back to what they were doing before the music started. He looked past Q to where the men with the cards had been, but there were just three columns of smoke.

~~~***~~~

Q sat down and deliberately did not gulp down his drink. He looked at the girl near him. She was just as before, as if nothing had happened. Which was good. Q slouched down and let his head rest of the back of the banquette while he caught his breath.

By the time he finished his drink, his breathing was back to normal. He got up with his glass to take a quick walk around the room. He stopped by the table next to the dance floor and carefully picked up the playing cards and put them in his pocket. He looked around the room casually; he couldn't see anyone looking, but he felt it. He closed his eyes and reached for the feeling. It was one he recognized. He tracked the sensation to the corner and saw familiar blue eyes watching him.

~~~***~~~

Q stood in front of Bond, hand on hips. “What are you doing here?”

“Q! What a lovely surprise! Have a seat,” Bond effused, his 'I totally didn't know you were here, honest' smile firmly in place.

Q glared in response and crossed his arms.

“Are you wearing contacts?” Bond asked. “I can see why you wear the glasses at the office. You're much less intimidating without them.” 

“Answer the question, Mr Bond.”

Bond leaned back, stretching his legs out with ankles crossed, arms draped over the back of the banquette. “Same thing you are, Q. Having an evening out after work. Can I get you a drink? Service was a bit slow earlier, but seems to have picked up since the dancing stopped.” He raised a knowing eyebrow.

Q let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his face. He took a seat beyond Bond's reach. “I don't need a babysitter, 007. I may not be a field agent, but I do know what I'm doing.”

Bond sat up and replied, “No. No. And yes.” At Q's blank look, he continued. “No, you don't need a babysitter. No, you're not a field agent. Yes, you do know what you're doing. That much is quite evident.” He looked pointedly over past the dance floor. 

“Do you even know what you saw?”

“Specifically? No. In general? Yes.” He paused and looked around. “Which apparently puts me ahead of everyone else here.”

“Were you planning on following me home too?”

“Making sure you get home safely, yes. I am planning to follow at a discreet distance.”

“Did you drive?” At Bond's nod, he said, “Then since your cover's blown, you can drive me home. Save me the hassle of a cab.” Q stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“What? Now?”

“Why not? Are you so enamored of the ambiance that you'd like to stay?”

Bond cast a disparaging glance at one of the neon strippers adorning the wall nearby. “That would be a no.”

~~~***~~~

They walked to Bond's car in silence. Once they reached it, Q asked, “GPS?”

“Of course.”

They got in the car and Q entered his address. He leaned back when finished, fastened his seat belt and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and twitching with leftover energy at the same time. It was unsurprising yet still disconcerting.

Bond watched Q out of the corner of his eye as he drove. “You okay?”

Q rolled his eyes. “I'm fine. You know how it is.”

“I do. I must admit I'm surprised to learn that you do.”

“It's not my first rodeo, Mr Bond.”

“But it's been a while.”

“Yes it has. I practice every day, but I haven't been in the field since before I came to MI6.” Bond turned his head to look at him. “Eyes on the road, Bond.” At his raised eyebrow, Q continued. “I used to consult some with the Met. Then MI5 tried to recruit me to start their own magic division. I seriously considered it. The work is important, and I'm good at it. But it's just not...It's different. Oh my god, I am rambling. I'm going to stop now.”

“You don't have to. I really don't mind. I've been told I'm a good listener.”

Q shook his head and looked out the window. He sighed. “Okay, yes, I kill people remotely and facilitate killing every day at work. But. Let me ask you. When you shoot a paper target, is it the same to you as shooting a person?”

“Generally the same, yes.”

“Fair enough. You're a double-oh. Probably not the best person to ask.” Q shifted in his seat to face Bond. “Okay, try this. You've killed before with a knife, yes?”

“Not my preferred method, but yes, it does happen.”

“Alright. You killed Silva with a knife. Was it the same as any other target?”

“No.”

“No. Because it was personal. With the magic it's *always* personal. It has to be. That's how it works. And I can't live with that.”

Bond nodded and kept driving.

~~~***~~~ 

Sitting in the quiet, Q was beginning to truly understand why so many double-ohs went off the radar after a mission. The exhaustion hadn't abated, but there was a reckless energy bouncing under his skin making him consider inadvisable actions. He took a long unabashed look at Bond, not caring if Bond noticed.

He'd seen Bond out of a suit before, but only in workout gear, never in what Q thought of as 'real people clothes'. The navy jumper and tight, dark jeans were a good look, making Bond seem more... human. 

They pulled up outside Q's building. Bond set the brake and let the car idle while he took in the neighborhood. “MI6 executive, and you live here?”

“Who has time to shop for a new flat? Besides, I like it here.” Q shrugged and opened the door and got out. He peered down into the car when he realized that Bond was still in the car and the car was still running. “Come along, Bond.”

It wasn't as though he didn't expect Q to have hidden depths, he'd just never actually thought about it before. Smart, beautiful and fierce. Literally magical. But while Bond did want, he was not about to take advantage of Q's post-mission headspace. “I don't think that would be a good idea, Q.”

“Your body disagrees,” Q said, pointedly looking at Bond's increasingly snug jeans. 

“Yes, well. There are times when it's best to let the other head do the thinking.”

“Bond. Get out of the bloody car and come inside.”

Bond rested his head on the steering wheel and sighed. He shut the car off and pocketed the keys as he got out to follow Q.

~~~***~~~

While Q unlocked the door, Bond remarked, “No fancy locks? Biometrics? Just a simple deadbolt?”

“I assure you, Mr Bond, it is not as simple as it appears. There's a rather sophisticated but obviously not noticeable biometric locking system. I can't decide if I'm pleased that you didn't spot it or not. Beyond that, the doors and window are also warded against unauthorized entry.” He opened the door but held it mostly closed. “Shoes off once you're inside and watch out for Cat. In. Quickly.”

Bond darted in behind Q and made sure the door latched behind him. “Cat? You couldn't be bothered to name your pet?” he asked as he knelt down to unlace his boots. 

“I did name her. Her name is Cat,” Q said. When Bond stood back up, Q was right there, pushing him up against the door. “Now,” he said as he leaned in to nuzzle at Bond's neck, “I don't know about you, but I need a shower.” He pulled back and started walking away.

He looked back once he reached the hallway and saw Bond still standing at the door. He sighed. “Okay. Perhaps I was wrong about your interest, because there is no possible way that James Bond is shy.”

“I'm not.” 

Q looked instantly crestfallen. “Oh.”

Bond took a step away from the door. “No, I'm not shy. I am very much interested.” He took another step, scratching the back of his neck. “You're just... not what I expected.”

“Oh. Well. Neither are you.” He walked back to where Bond was standing and put his hands on Bond's hips. “But this is me when I've decided I want something.” He drew their bodies together and kissed Bond gently.

Bond couldn't stop his groan even if he wanted. He tried to deepen the kiss, but Q pulled back just enough to speak. “Not out here. Shower. I really want to wash the stink off.”

“Lead the way. I will follow.”

Q did not let go, instead walking backwards still clutching Bond's hips. They carefully made their way to the bathroom, kissing softly the whole time. 

Bond was thankful that the bathroom door was open so nobody had to stop touching to open it. They maneuvered themselves in and Bond kicked the door shut so he could press Q up against it.

“Fuck,” Q gasped as he let his head fall back against the door. 

“That is the general idea,” Bond murmured against his neck while unbuttoning Q's shirt.

“Actually,” Q said and paused, surprising Bond when he grabbed his arms and spun them around, pinning Bond to the door. “Actually, the general idea is shower,” he said, “but then again, I do suppose that could wait just a little longer.” Letting go of Bond's arms, he set his hands against the door to either side of Bond's head and ground their hips together.

Bond abandoned Q's shirt, pulling it open enough to let him mouth where neck met shoulder. His hands clung to Q's hips, riding out the frantic pace Q had set. “Q,” Bond spoke into Q's skin.

Q briefly considered slowing down, but then Bond hit a particularly good spot. “Oh, god. Right there.” Q tilted his head to the side to allow Bond better access. 

“You do realize this is going to be over with rather embarrassingly fast,” Bond muttered.

“I honestly do not care at the moment. Shut up and go back to what you were doing.”

Bond smirked into Q's neck and whispered, “Make me.”

Q reared his head back and snarled before leaning back in to kiss Bond quiet. Bond shuddered when Q brought his hands down from the door and ran them down his sides. Nimble fingers made quick work of their flies. Bond gasped into Q's mouth as Q took both their cocks in hand, stroking slowly. 

Bond felt more than heard Q whisper something into his mouth, and the slide of skin against skin was abruptly smoother. He opened his eyes, startled, and opened his mouth to say *something*, but Q snapped, “I said. Shut. Up,” and increased the pace. Bond surrendered, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead into Q's, allowing his body to race headlong towards orgasm.

A litany of curses fell from Q's mouth. Bond opened his eyes to marvel at the sight of the man he'd always thought of as so composed coming apart. He took his right hand off Q's hip and curled it around the back of his neck, stroking there lightly with his thumb half the speed of Q's strokes.

Moments later, Q's eyes flew open, his voice cracking on a wordless sound, body shuddering with the force of his climax. Bond couldn't help but be pulled along and tipped over the edge just before Q stilled.

They stood there panting for a minute or two. Q took a deep breath and let it out in a gust as he straightened up. He pulled away and turned to walk over to the shower. “There's a hook on the wall to your right. You can hang your clothes there,” Q said over his shoulder.

“Not much for afterglow, are you?” Bond quipped as he started getting undressed, carefully hanging each item on the convenient hook. He left his socks on the floor and had just set his folded boxers on the vanity when he was hit in the face by Q's undershirt. 

“How did you do that so fast?” Bond added 'playful' to the list of Q's surprising traits and stepped towards the shower.

“No, it wasn't magic.” Q pointed to the pile of clothes at his feet. “I don't have to worry about putting them back on again.” 

He grabbed Bond's hand and pulled him into the large walk-in shower enclosure. He situated them both under the spray. “Out-sized shower, out-sized shower head,” Bond remarked. “When will the surprises end, Q?”

“Not any time soon, I should hope.”

~~~***~~~

Q rubbed at his hair with a towel. “I think I might actually be able to sleep now.” He looked over at Bond and asked, “How about you? Are you staying or going?”

“If it's all the same to you, I think I'm going to call it a night.” He stood up and started getting dressed. “What are you going to tell M?”

“You mean am I going to tell him that I spotted the backup I explicitly told him not to send? That I didn't need?” Q shook his head and shrugged. “I haven't decided yet. Do you have a preference?”

“Not really. Just let me know.” Bond pulled the jumper over his head and checked his hair in the mirror. It'd do for going home. He'd want to shower again once he got home anyway after putting dirty clothes back on.

“I can do that.” Q donned a ridiculously fluffy bathrobe and stuffed his hands in the pockets. “Got everything?”

“Yeah. Can I just let myself out or...”

“That would not be advisable. I have to disable the security both coming and going.” Q covered his mouth and yawned. “Let's get you out of here before I fall asleep on my feet.”

He led Bond to the front door and waited until Bond was bent over dealing with his boots to take care of the security. Q leaned against the door jamb and pushed the door open. Bond stood up and stepped into the corridor. “Drive safe.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Q grinned. “Good night, Mr Bond.”

“Good night, Q.”

~~~***~~~

From: q@universalexports.com  
To: j.bond@universalexports.com  
Subj: update

M's none too pleased with either of us. I can live with that.  
Thank you for the ride last night. 

-Q

 

From: j.bond@universalexports.com  
To: q@universalexports.com  
Subj: re:update

My pleasure.

JB

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, inspired by [that video](http://youtu.be/H3T2RnTBp_4). 
> 
> Title is from Orchestral Manoeuvres In the Dark's [Genetic Engineering](http://youtu.be/YkEBtFbOGg).
> 
> Neverending thanks to Linda3m and twistedchick for support and beta.


End file.
